


Silence

by squeaklings



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, Introspection, Post-Series, Recovery, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeaklings/pseuds/squeaklings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the silence of his hospital room, Alphonse reflects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Not the most original idea, but I was given the prompt "Silence" and this is what I came up with.

The clock on the wall tickled softly in time with the drip of his IV, loud in the silence of his hospital room. Al stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows play along the white walls illuminated in moonlight. Across the room Ed slept soundly, for once not snoring, his face content. Al looked over at his brother and smiled.

Oh, to be able to _smile_ again…

Al’s face hurt from so much smiling. He smiled at his brother, he smiled at the taste of the hospital food, he smiled at the nurses and doctors and the IV in his arm. The sheer act of _feeling_ again made him smile.

Even in the silence, he smiled.

He thought he would hate it. How many nights had he spent up alone, in the dark and silence, the only company his own thoughts? His body had been trapped for years in white nothingness. He’d hated it so much for so long.

He should still hate it.

But there was something comforting, too, about the stillness. Something familiar, something _his_.

He lifted his arm towards the shadows on the ceiling, his muscles weak and sore, his body still scarily thin. The shadows ignored him, and he let his arm drop back onto his stomach and the slightly-scratchy hospital sheets.

Soon a nurse would come in to check on them, and then a few hours after that his brother would wake up with a huge yawn and an even larger commotion. Friends would stop in to say hello, doctors would check his vital signs, the sounds of the hospital would creep into his world and he would relish every sensation he could experience.

But in the silence like this, he could focus inward. He could listen for his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of his chest, check his pulse and know that blood flowed through his veins. He could wriggle his toes under the sheets and giggle at the feel of it and not have to explain himself to anyone. He could take a big breath with his nose and breathe it out his mouth; he could hold his breath until he felt his lungs ache. He could poke his cheeks or run his fingers through his hair; he could lick his lips or squeeze his eyes shut so tight he saw stars. He could scratch the itch on his nose.

He could do all the little things everyone took for granted.

Across the room Ed shifted in his sleep, flinging his right arm out from under the blankets and over his face. He mumbled something and then rolled over, his back to Al, lost in some dream or other. The younger Elric grinned.

“Goodnight, Brother,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and settled back against his pillow, the covers pulled up to his chin, and let sleep wash over him.

Really, the silence wasn’t quite so terrible anymore. But he hoped he’d have some good dreams all the same.


End file.
